The Shadows Suit Me (Revised)

by Luke1

Luke Skywalker was once a beacon of light for the whole Galaxy. He and Leia had been happy together with their son. Considering what he went through, Luke's anger and spice addition are probably understandable, but he can't go on destroying himself forever. (13 years ago, I wrote the Shadows Suit Me, which was a first draft. This is the revised edition-with added material.)

1. Prologue

Foreword (Author's Note)

When I wrote the Shadows Suit Me, I was nineteen, I didn't ever proofread or have things beta'd, and, besides, I had very little idea where this whole thing was going. After several years of letting the sequel, Burning Bright, sit idle, I finally got a new computer and sat down to finish writing it, only to realize that I needed to re-read what I'd written so far, otherwise I'd have no idea where to go from there. It was immediately obvious that Shadows needed to be revised. It was riddled with grammatical and spelling errors, unintentional cliches, continuity mistakes, foreshadowing that didn't go anywhere, etc, etc. There were passages that needed to be elaborated upon, others that needed to be removed. I remember telling more than one reader at the time that Shadows was a rough draft, and it's true. I typed it up between—and sometimes during—classes, and I was in such a rush to get it out into the world that I didn't take the time I actually needed to polish it. Better late than never.

I'm calling this version 2.0. There will probably be a 2.1 after I finish Burning Bright, to bring them all together. Before writing 2.1, I'll probably ask for a beta reader. Please let me know if you're interested.

Do you need to read the revised Shadows if you read the original? Not really, unless you want to, but if you are reading Burning Bright, I would advise it.

Revising Shadows is what I need to do to move forward in this series, in my writing career, and in my life. I hope you all enjoy it.

Chris

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Dedicated to all women who have refused to let men destroy them. You deserve so much better. I love you so.

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The Shadows Suit Me

Prologue

I suppose there was a time when we were happy.

I remember it that way at least. Leia...well, who knows about her. All I know for sure is that the light and dark seem to come in turns for me. I don't get both in balance like other people. And the dark has stayed now far too long.

The sun is setting behind the towers of the Imperial Palace. It's winter, but it's been so dry lately that the isn't any snow on the rooftops or on the balcony where I sit, no frost clinging to the windows and walls. I didn't grow up with this cold, but I got used to it. I suppose I should be wearing a jacket or something, but it doesn't matter. Not to anyone but me, at least, and if I'm the only one who cares about me then there's no point in bothering to take care of myself. I watch as the lights turn on one by one in the Palace as people realize, blinking up from computer screens, data pads, and dinner, that night has all but fallen. I let the apartment behind me remain unlit. The shadows suit me.

In one of those rooms across Imperial City, through one of those lit windows in the Palace, there's a seven-year-old, blue-eyed boy called Anakin. Leia once implied, years ago, something about my own character by drawing a sharp distinction between Vader and Anakin Skywalker. We've never talked about it, but I still know that Leia named the boy after that idea, even though I'd left. I don't understand. At least, I don't think I do.

There's another, dark-eyed and ten. Ben.

I put out my spice stick in the ashtray beside my chair. I can still see my breath, even though it's no longer mixed with smoke. But I'm not cold, anymore, as I feel the warmth from the spice tingle through my body. I close my eyes and lean my head back in my chair. It washes over me, the rush like cold water and a warm blanket at the same time, flushing my skin and raising every hair on my body, numbing my emotions, dulling my thoughts and senses and pain. It's like pins all over, but it's so soft and gentle. Euphoria without really feeling like anything at all. Wide-awake and so far away you're practically gone.

The rush only lasts for the beginning of the high, and you feel empty after it goes away. Sometimes embarrassed. Sometimes angry. Always low. Especially when you tell yourself so often that this is going to be the last time.

Sitting up, I listlessly regard the crowded ashtray on the duracrete floor. Last time. Right.

As if I would have been a good father, anyway.